The Fourth Chakra
by Star Lyre
Summary: Avatar Roku has just died. The world is unstable. Even the secluded Air Temples feel the reverberations. So just how did Gyatso contrive to become Aang's guardian? The answer: not by his choosing, that's for sure. My 1st fanfic, so by all means R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I decided to rework this chapter a bit. When I read it over, I realized it was quite a ridiculous first chapter, in both its length and the particular material it covered. I also realized that I had no idea where the story was going, so I rethought some of my original concepts. Please enjoy and review!**

**Disclaimer: In writing this fanfiction, I do not attempt to make any profit, nor do I claim any affliation with anything to do with Avatar: The Last Airbender. **

Chapter One

The temple was silent at this hour, it's inhabitants asleep, the sparse trees swaying gently in the mountain wind. The stone was cool, what little heat the sun provided that day had long since left. The night was clear, enabling the watchers that never slept, the stars, to observe the only thing still moving, a solitary figure on the northern plaza.

He drew a deep breath, and shakily expelled it, circling his arms to bend the air to his will, despite the leaden feeling in his limbs. The gust, which under better circumstances would have formed into a powerful semicircle of wind, simply faded away. The figure stood stock still, as if unwilling to believe it. Another thing dear to his heart had left him. His airbending ability, the talent that his whole life had been built around… what was he worth without it? He buried his face in his hands, whispering through his sobs.

"Roku, why did you leave?" The grief and anguish of the death of a beloved friend pressed down upon him, rendering his limbs immovable. "How could you! We needed you! I needed you! And now you're gone…." His shoulders shook.

* * *

Seated crosslegged in the lotus position, his attempts at meditation were interrupted by a voice. 

"Gyatso…." He opened his eyes to find Htsao, one of his fellow elders, at the door of his chambers. Bowing in the traditional morning greeting, Htsao spoke again, "The pupils are waiting, Gyatso." The other monk turned his head and closed his eyes. His bending…. but what did it matter anyway? A life had been snuffed out. The Avatar was dead. Roku was dead. How could he instruct young novices if he didn't even know the answers himself? Misinterpreting his fellow's silence, Htsao became exasperated. "Look, I know you were a close personal friend of the Avatar's, but you must not let emotions tether you. Life goes on. You can't just sit here a---"

"It's not that, Htsao." With an effort, he looked his colleague in the eye. "Somehow… I have lost my bending." Surprise and shock passed over Htsao's face. "Please go inform the novices that there will be no lessons today."

Recovering himself, the monk retreated out the door, searching for the proper course of action. Gyatso's sudden inability could have major repercussions. The chief elder of the temple was growing old, and the Avatar was dead. Making his decision, Htsao swept through the corridor in the direction of the inner sanctuary.

* * *

Four of the five stools were filled. From his position on the sanctuary floor, Gyatso glanced toward his empty place, an exceedingly disheartening omen. Htsao, seated on his stool, surveyed the scene with satisfaction. The chief elder Ismaya raised his ancient head, a sign that he had come to a conclusion. Ismaya had led the temple wisely and well for a very long time, even by Air Monk reckoning. He remembered Avatar Kyoshi, and there were few living who could say that. The other monks revered his experience and spiritual wisdom. He had lived through the death and birth of an Avatar before; they were confident in his ability to lead them now. 

"This is indeed a serious matter. But the question we should be asking ourselves, brothers, is why?" Ismaya's ancient and failing eyes moved to the monk before him. "Monk Gyatso, have you any idea what the source of this affliction is?" Remaining standing before his equals on the floor of the inner sanctum, as was his right, Gyatso spoke with effort,

"I discovered my inability shortly after I heard the news of Roku's d--- the news." The monk seemed to want to avoid thinking about the precise nature of that news.

Ismaya replied, "Gyatso, I know you grieve. We all grieve," He said, indicating the elders with a trembling hand. "But you must put those feelings behind you. If trouble breaks out, we will need your skills, Gyatso. We need you."

The monk respectfully countered, "My father, Avatar Roku was one of my oldest and dearest friends. You cannot ask me to let go of his memory, to simply pretend that our friendship never existed."

"My son, you must not let your grief tie you down. Accept the fact that Avatar Roku is dead with logic. Separate your feelings from your duty."

Gyatso looked away. "I am sorry….. I cannot. I will not."

Ismaya's eyes were sad.

"In my opinion, " Htsao interrupted, rising from his stool, "Brother Gyatso is letting his grief for the Avatar cloud his judgment." The other elders, mildly shocked at Htsao's breach of etiquette, nevertheless murmured their agreement. Gyatso stood with dignity, his expression unchanging.

"Brother Htsao," Ismaya murmured, "If you have any more to say, I would suggest taking a place on the floor, or else I cannot allow your words to affect my judgment on this matter." Wincing slightly at the mild rebuke, Htsao relinquished his stool and strode over to where Gyatso stood, his robes flowing around him, the very image of a tranquil and obedient monk.

"You are letting your heart rule your mind, my brother. Your emotions are binding you, making you unable to see the truth, to think with logic. The Avatar's passing is tragic, yes. But the world is what we should be concerned about. Our personal feeling should be placed to one side, where they belong." Htsao turned to the council. "I ask you, is this behavior that should be upheld by the Air Nomads? It is outrageous and irresponsible!"

"I beg to differ." The monk in question spoke calmly. "We have many differences, Brother Htsao, and this is one of them. My feelings are not something that can be discarded at the merest whim. They are a part of who I am." The monk stood up straighter, his robes swirling at the motion. "If they tether me to the very ground, then so be it! If emotions are un-Nomadic, as you, my brother, seem to suggest, then maybe it's time that the Nomads changed a bit!" Gyatso was no longer calm. His eyes were blazing and his hands were clenched. The elders were really shocked now, their serene façade abandoned. Htsao inwardly congratulated himself as he bowed his way back to his stool. He had played Gyatso and his wayward emotions perfectly. The other three elders of the council were not inclined to the philosophy of change in any way, shape, or form. When the time came for the three-symbol necklace to move to the next bearer, their choice would be obvious.

* * *

Some miles to the east, a man was traveling steadily towards his destination. He was one of the few who had not heard the news that was sweeping the world. The man patted his steed encouragingly as they soared over the first foothills of the Patola Mountains. The wind caressed his face gently, as this particular wind had done many times before. It ruffled his hair as if in affection. But the thin mountain air seemed to whistle straight through his guru tunic, down to his very bones, regardless of the mild sun now coming through the clouds. Remembering his cargo, sure to be feeling the cold more than he, the man vaulted nimbly over the bison's head to the saddle. 

There they were, the results of his painstaking labor. Three babies, wrapped snugly in linen, placed in woven baskets of cane, only their small faces exposed to the elements. The first two were asleep, but the third was staring into space, with that inquisitive attention unique to very young babies. When the man followed the infant's gaze, he realized that the clouds were what held his charge's attention. Those as yet unformed phantasms, their destiny unknown even to themselves. Neither young, for they had drifted in the sky since the beginning of time, nor old, for they renew themselves with every shower. The stuff of the heavens, the very material that dreams were made of. Smiling at the infant's apt choice, Pathik vaulted back to his former perch. He took back up the reins. With any luck, and the help of the winds, they would arrive before nightfall.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: I have expanded the first chapter, so if you're confused, go back and read it.**

**A/N: Wow, updating, what a concept! I hope you guys like it!  
**

**Disclaimer: I wished and wished, believe me, but I still don't own Avatar: the Last Airbender. I'll put it on my Christmas list.**

Chapter Two

Monk Gyatso sat in the flower garden. The plants and flowers at this time of year were little more than thin stick-like rods, the oncoming winter obvious in the chill of the air and the barrenness of the earth. Anyone who knew Gyatso well would have been surprised. It was near the fifth hour, and usually the monk was firmly stationed at the outdoor ovens, directing the kitchen helpers and keeping an eye on whatever dish of his was currently in the oven. But instead he was sitting on a stone bench in the gardens, gazing off into the distance, frowning slightly. Perhaps he was meditating? But in fact, Gyatso's mind was too occupied for meditation.

What a fool he was! He knew his personal opinions had never been in favor with his fellow council members. If only he had thought before bursting out like that. But now the damage was surely done. Gyatso was not blind. Htsao had ever been ambitious. But up until now, Gyatso's formidable airbending talents had placed him above Htsao in the intangible social hierarchy of the monks. This had been the way of things ever since their youth. Gyatso and Htsao had been apprentices together, under old Monk Sheratan, who had long since passed on to the Spirit World. Gyatso had always been regarded as the free-spirited and somewhat wild one, while Htsao was always the more careful and obedient novice. But at least in the eyes of the older monks, whatever flaws the young novice may have had were far overshadowed by his prodigious skill. Putting all modesty aside, Gyatso had been without a doubt the best young airbender in the temple. Until of course, the day that Roku had arrived….

Blinking suddenly, Gyatso pushed the painful memories away. His mind had digressed. Undoubtedly a sign of old age creeping up on him. He heaved a sigh, stroking his mustache.

_Think, Gyatso, think. How to resolve this situation?_

With the ease that comes from a lifetime of practice, the monk assumed the lotus position, resting his hands on his knees. For a minute or two he sat in tranquil silence, the breeze stirring his robes

* * *

A lone lemur was idly casting about the garden in search of a few tasty morsels, perhaps dropped by careless novices. Spying a fragment of cake, she swooped down, chittering in delight.

This particular duty wasn't exactly what she had been trained to do, but hey, somebody had to pitch in when the temple got dirty! Sometimes it was a hard and thankless task, being a lemur. The creature pricked up her enormous ears, the small snack dropping, forgotten, from her paws.

That rushing, whooshing noise was far too big and, well… bison-sounding to be a breeze! Puffing up her throat, she gave the cry that she had been trained to use when a bison was approaching the temple. A shrill shriek emanated from her throat.

* * *

_The best way to solve a problem is to get outside of it_.

What he really needed was an outside perspective on this problem. He needed someone else's advice. Someone he could trust, someone who wasn't an Air Nomad, someone who...

Gyatso's eyes flew open with a start. A lemur was sounding the bison call not ten yards away! Nearby lemurs took up the cry as they, too, heard the telltale roar of a sky bison. Why, speak of the Face-Stealer!!

Smiling for the first time in days, Gyatso rose to his feet. As the lemurs' calls spread over the temple like a wave, the monk headed to the eastern landing plaza.

* * *

A bison familiar to the older inhabitants of the Southern Air Temple descended, using her powerful tail to coast the last thirty feet to the terrace. She emitted a tired yet satisfied groan, glad to be back at the place of her birth.

The younger children of the temple, all of whom were, of course, boys, gathered around the bison, their bright orange and yellow tunics giving them the appearance of a mob of chattering parrot-monkeys. The children giggled with delight as they questioned the stranger.

"Hey mister, where'd you come from?"

"Why's your face so dark, huh?'

"Ooh, your bison is so pretty!"

"Whatcha got in your saddle?"

Guru Pahtik raised his hands to stem the flow of noise. "Shhh, shhh, little ones, we must be quiet."

He pressed his finger to his lips secretively. Pleased to play his game, the children mimicked his gesture, stifling their continued giggles.

Pathik looked to the left and right, then whispered behind his hand. "You see, I have brought you three new friends, who are sleeping right now." He paused expectantly. The children looked up at him, confused. When he saw that they didn't catch his meaning, he clarified, "Three babies." A collective oooh rose up, their little eyes shining.

By this time, the older novices and monks had started to catch up to their younger counterparts and their fast little legs. Upon hearing the guru's words, the monks nodded sagely to themselves. The four Air Temples, by their very nature, were constantly in need of new blood, and one of the most reliable sources for new Air Nomad infants was Guru Pathik. The guru's spiritual energy knowledge helped him sense when an Air Nomad was orphaned or abandoned. He saw to it that the infants were rescued and adopted by an Air Temple.

The older novices had expected something more exciting and quickly became bored. The delivery of babies, while relatively rare, was not something that novice boys cared about. Calling out to their friends in the crowd that had gathered, most of them raced off in the direction of the Air Ball courts.

* * *

Gyatso made his way through the stone corridors. He nodded to some members of the council, who were assisting Ismaya to the terrace. The old monk could not move very fast without help nowadays.

"Good afternoon, brothers. You too heard the customary uproar that usually accompanies visitors?"

"Even these failing ears could hear that racket!" Ismaya smiled as Gyatso fell into step beside the council. At least the monk was interested in something again, after a full day of sitting in his chambers, unresponsive and silent. A tinge of worry crossed the Chief Elder's face. Gyatso's mental and spiritual condition worried him greatly. Something must be done. But what?

At that moment, the Chief Elder of the Southern Air Temple conceived a plan, stemming from his vast experience in the ruling of his temple. What Gyatso needed was a task; something to do that would take his mind off his grievous double loss: his friend and his highly praised bending. Of course, if it happened to take his mind off his own dangerous philosophies, that wouldn't be minded either. Isamaya, you old scoundrel! He really amazed himself sometimes. Isamaya chuckled happily, as if he were a child.

The other monks looked at him curiously. Realizing that every eye was upon him, including Gyatso's, Ismaya turned his chuckle into a cough.

"Something in my throat, pardon me," he whispered in his best old monk voice.

The party of elders stepped out into the sunlight of the eastern terrace. As they approached the bison, the children quieted and shuffled to the side, their hands folded in respect. The monks in the background did likewise. The guru stepped forward and bowed to Ismaya formally, then swept him up in a hug.

"Ismaya, my old friend, it does my heart good to see you!"

"I will thank you to put me down, you young rip!" Ismaya spoke sternly, attempting to retain some shred of his dignity.

Pathik laughed. He was considered young by Air monk standards, having passed his fourtieth winter not three winters ago. Putting the ancient monk down, he turned to the rest of the group.

"Well, my friends, I have made a long and difficult journey from the mainland. It was many hours of feeding, burping, singing, and other actions that I would prefer not to mention, before I…." He trailed off as he realized that no one was laughing. His brain slowly processed this unusual state of affairs, then told him to take a peek at his audience. Their faces were solemn as the grave. Pathik thought he heard a sparrow-cricket chirp.

"What is the matter, my brothers? What could possibly be wrong on a day like this? The sun is shining… well, barely, but I'm sure it will come out soon. The flowers are blooming, well in fact they are not, are they…."

A monk who was not on the council, Benkei, interrupted Pathik's optimistic attempts to find something favorable in the appearance of the surroundings. "Pathik, didn't you know? Fire Lord Sozin sent out the news through diplomatic channels not two days ago. The Avatar... he's dead. Something about a volcano. "

Pathik wiggled a finger in his ear. "You know, that's funny, I thought you said the Avatar was dead."

The monks just looked at him.

Pathik's normally dark face grew pale.

"What's dead mean?"

Gyatso glanced in the direction of the voice, and saw to his chagrin that all the young boys were still there. He gently dismissed them. "I will answer your question later, Toru, but for now, all of you run off and play. Guru Pathik will tell you stories later."

The boys, sobered by the mood of their elders, for once did as they were told without question.


End file.
